


The Rise and Fall of the Storybrooke Book Club

by PhiraLovesLoki



Series: 1k Follower Giveaway Stories [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Book Club, Books, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhiraLovesLoki/pseuds/PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: Killian Jones is sure, beyond a reasonable doubt, that joining Belle's book club is a huge mistake and a waste of time. But he should know better than to judge a book (club) by its cover.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [once_uponacaptain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/once_uponacaptain/gifts).



> This story was commissioned by and written for onceuponacaptainswan as part of my 1k follower giveaway on Tumblr! I loved the suggestion, and just like Hook, I loved the challenge presented by it! Big thank you to caprelloidea for beta-reading for me!

It was the first official meeting of the Storybrooke Book Club, and there was nowhere Killian Jones wanted to be any less.

He clutched at his beer while staring down at the book on his lap, festering in resentment. Belle had pleaded with him, explaining that they _needed_ him, since eight was the _perfect_ number for a book club. And this was her _first_ book club—she didn’t want it to be a disaster. And wouldn’t it be _good_ for him to restart his social life? It was only one hour a month, and besides, he _loved_ reading!

But Killian would much rather be reading the books he chose, at his own pace, and _not_ have to discuss them with several strangers.

Said strangers were beginning to arrive; someone was knocking on the door, and Belle had dashed out of the kitchen to let whoever it was in.

“Whoever it was” was a petite brunette with a pixie cut and a casserole dish. “Hi! I didn’t know what to bring, so I made lasagna.”

“Oh—thank you!” Belle led the woman into the kitchen, and there was another knock. “Killian, would you get that?”

He grumbled before almost slamming his beer on the coffee table and tossing the book to the couch. _Now_ he had to help? He should have just said no, that he would find another way to socialize if it was so important to her. This was a mistake.

A harried-looking blonde woman was at the door, looking like she was relieved to be at her destination. “Uh, is this Belle’s place?”

“Aye, come in.”

“Oh, thank _god,”_ she said before shoving stuff into his arms. “Traffic was _so_ bad, and then my GPS was telling me—oh, hey!” She’d noticed that there were people in the kitchen and walked in as though their conversation had reached a natural endpoint.

He looked down to see that she’d saddled him with two boxes of crackers and a couple of blocks of cheese. She couldn’t have brought those into the kitchen with her? He sighed and made his way inside to dump the food on the counter.

“Oh, good!” Belle spotted him before he could escape back to his beer. “Killian, this is Mary Margaret.” She pointed to the brunette. “And this is Ashley. They’re the ones who came to me about starting the book club.”

“Yeah, this was _such_ a good idea,” Ashley said. “I had so much trouble getting out of the house today. Alexandra was _so_ clingy, and Sean _swears_ he has things under control, but—”

Killian took advantage of the shift in attention and began to make his way back to the couch. Of course, there was another knock at the door, and Belle still had the presence of mind to ask him to answer it.

This time, there were two people on the other side of it. First, a statuesque brunette with red streaks in her hair and predatory expression on her face; she stood next to a man who looked halfway between bored and uncomfortable. “Well, _hello,”_ the woman said, licking her lips. “I sure hope we’ve got the right place.”

Ah, she was one of _those_ types. “Well, _love,”_ he challenged back, “that depends on what exactly you’re looking for.”

The man chuckled, and the woman practically squealed. “Oh, _please_ tell me this is book club!”

“Oh, _hey!”_ Ashley practically pushed him out of the way. “You made it!”

“We did,” the man said. He faced Killian and held out his hand to shake. “I’m Graham. This is my sister, Ruby.”

Killian kept his hand by his side. “Killian. I’m supposed to invite you in, so—” He jerked his head to indicate they should follow.

“Hi, there!” Belle had made her way to the entryway to greet the latest arrivals, and Killian finally escaped back to the living room, where he could finish his beer in peace.

As he began his second beer of the night, Belle began to set up food on the coffee table, with Mary Margaret and Graham assisting. Meanwhile, Ruby helped herself to some of the wine she’d brought, and was loudly offering everyone else a glass. Belle gave him one of her patented _Come on, Killian_ looks. He simply shrugged at her, and before she could rope him into doing or saying anything, there was another knock at the door, and she scurried off to answer.

“Who else is coming?” Ashley asked Mary Margaret around a mouthful of cheese and cracker.

“My friend, Emma. You remember her from my birthday party? She’s bringing her brother.”

Ashley snorted. “Yeah, I remember her.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “Come on, she wasn’t _rude_ to you. She’s just—”

“All right, we’re all here!” Belle said as she practically skipped back into the living room, two people trailing behind her.

First, there was a tall, blond man who looked nervously excited. He was carrying a bottle of wine, which he held up a little shyly. “Uh, where should I put this?”

“Hello, handsome,” Ruby said, leaning back in the arm chair she’d picked. “That’s _quite_ a nice bottle of wine you brought.”

“Oh, yeah, well …” The man seemed a little flustered.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he knew what to get.” The wry comment came from the woman who’d been right behind him; she, too, was blonde, and she carried a sixpack of beer. “He had to ask the guy at the liquor store. Where are we putting booze?”

“Right over there, sweet thing,” Ruby said, pointing. “And just _who_ are _you?”_

“Emma,” the woman said, lifting an eyebrow.

“And I’m David,” the man said, grabbing the sixpack from Emma and bringing both over to where Ruby had indicated.

Introductions were made all around, with Killian only gruffly nodding and giving his name when all eyes were on him. Meanwhile, everyone else piled their plates with lasagna and appetizers while he finished his beer and stared down at the offending book.

“So!” Belle said excitedly after everyone seemed settled. “How did you all like _Jane Eyre?_ Who would like to start?”

“I thought it was really enjoyable,” Mary Margaret volunteered. “I’d read it in high school, but I don’t think I really appreciated it much.”

“Same here,” David interjected. “Back then, I thought it was kind of lame, like a book for girls. I’m glad I gave it another shot.” Killian heard a soft snort come from the other side of the couch, where Emma was seated.

“Well, _I_ thought it was hot how they got together,” Ruby said. “Like, the mutual pining where she was convinced her love was unrequited. Stuff like that just fucks me up.”

“I thought it was okay,” Graham admitted. “Not my sort of book, I’m afraid. But I did appreciate the writing style. The scene with the fire was exciting.”

“Yeah, that was my favorite part,” Emma said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s well-paced. Like you said, exciting.” Graham smiled at her.

“Well, _I_ liked the whole ‘wife in the attic’ business,” Ashley said. “Super soap opera-y.”

“What did you think, Killian?” Belle asked.

He scowled. This was just as miserable as he’d expected. “To be honest, I dislike the second part of this book. The ending is extremely contrived. Jane should have kicked Rochester to the curb and never looked back.”

He looked up to find the disappointed expression he’d expected to see on Belle’s face. Meanwhile, the majority of the guests looked a little uncomfortable. But then there was a chuckle.

“Can’t say I disagree with that,” Emma said. Her agreement broke the tension that had arisen in the wake of his comment, and Belle seemed to relax.

The rest of the discussion was mostly boring; Killian worked on another beer while the rest of them did the heavy lifting.

“I liked that Jane enters back into the relationship on her own terms,” David said earnestly. “Women in her time didn’t always have that luxury, but she was able to make her own decision to reject St. John and go back to Rochester.”

He seemed to be directing that opinion at Mary Margaret, who was more focused on the question that Belle had posed to the group. “I think that Brontë is trying to convey that passion is necessary in balance. Too much passion, and you end up consumed by it. Too little, and it’s just a business agreement.”

“Boy, do I hear you there,” Ashley complained. “We’ve been married for a couple years now, and lemme tell ya, too little passion is worse than too much.”

“I totally agree,” Ruby said. “I think it’s bullshit that passion was what was wrong with Rochester’s marriage to Bertha. I dare anyone to convince me that too much passion is a bad thing.”

“What do you think, Emma?” Graham asked.

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. I think we’re supposed to equate passion with sex, and I kind of reject the idea that sex made Bertha Mason go crazy. Sex isn’t a bad thing.”

“With you one hundred percent,” Ruby said.

“I don’t know if passion is supposed to mean sex,” Belle said. “But more that it’s supposed to mean the _quality_ of it.”

“I’d bet Rochester’s a fiend in bed.”

Belle blushed. “I mean, more emotionally.” She looked down at the coffee table. “Looks like we’re running low on cheese and crackers; I’ll be back in a minute!”

“I’ll help,” Ruby volunteered, following her to the kitchen.

“More wine, Mary Margaret?” David asked, but Mary Margaret had gotten up and headed to the bathroom.

“So, how do you you fit in here?” Graham asked Emma. “I came here with Ruby—she’s my sister.”

“Mary Margaret and I are friends, and she kind of begged me to join,” Emma replied.

“Begged?” Graham seemed amused. “You seem to like reading. Why the reluctance?”

“Yeah,” Ashley joined in. “Are you kidding me? I jumped at the chance for a night away from the baby. Motherhood is exhausting.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma replied noncommittally.

“So you’ve read this book before?” Graham continued. Emma nodded. “I hadn’t. What was it like to reread it?”

“It was fine.” Emma shifted uncomfortably.

“How about you, Ashley?” David asked, so suddenly that Killian nearly started in his seat. “Had you read this before?”

“Yeah, but I barely remember it,” she admitted. “How about you … Killian, right?”

Bloody hell, even without Belle present, he was being roped into the conversation. Fortunately, Mary Margaret returned from the bathroom before he could answer, and David immediately asked her the same question.

The night wound down, with Killian finishing his fourth beer as the club dispersed. Belle sighed as she cleaned up. “Well, you _could_ have been friendlier.”

“I _could_ have stayed home,” he replied. “Be happy I’m here at all.”

She sighed. “Fine. Shall I drive you home?”

He looked down at his empty beer bottle. Four beers and no food—he was certainly in no state to drive. But that was his own damn fault.

“I’ll be fine,” he said gruffly as he pulled on his jacket and left, calling a cab as he went.

* * *

Killian shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. He’d selected it for several reasons: it was one of the few places in Mary Margaret’s loft where he could sit alone; there was a sideboard within easy reach for him to set his drink; and it was close to the kitchen, where the wine was.

It _was_ worth the discomfort, but he found himself eyeing Emma with jealousy; she’d managed to sit in the only other non-sofa seat, a blissfully soft-looking armchair. He would have been worried that she might read too deeply into his longing gazes, and believe he was looking at her and not her chair, but she was sufficiently distracted by the child in her lap.

Ashley had shown up with her daughter and gone off on a rant about babysitters. When the babe had begun to fuss, and breast-feeding hadn’t resolved the issue, Emma had volunteered to hold Alexandra and keep her occupied.

This meant Emma was almost entirely withdrawn from the discussion, and Mary Margaret, who seemed anxious about being the perfect host, wasn’t permitting _anyone_ else to absent themselves from the conversation. Thus, he was forced to participate.

“Now, what about the significance of the revelation that Elphaba’s father was the Wizard?” Mary Margaret asked, glancing down at her list of questions.

“I thought it was _great,”_ David said enthusiastically. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“Oh,” Belle said. “I did.”

“So did I,” Graham added. “Did you, Emma?”

Emma continued cooing at Alexandra, and Killian suspected she’d heard the question and ignored it.

“What did you think about that, Killian?” Mary Margaret asked.

He sighed, and Belle gave him a pointed look. “I thought it was symbolic of her own relationship with Frex,” he said, staring down into his wine glass. He needed a refill. “Both the father who raised her and her true father abused their power, and both perceived her as a threat or some kind of evil force, not a daughter.”

No one spoke for a moment, and he looked up, wondering if they truly expected him to keep talking. But they all looked a bit stunned. Even Emma was looking at him, with a curious, impressed expression.

Graham spoke first. “Well, no one knew that the Wizard was her father. She didn’t know, and he didn’t either.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the question,” Emma pointed out, before returning her attention to Alexandra. “I think Alexandra needs to be changed.”

As Ashley got up to take her daughter, Belle said, “Now might be a good time for a break.”

“Oh, yes,” Mary Margaret agreed. “I’ll finish preparing dessert.”

“Do you need help?” David volunteered, standing up so quickly, he nearly dropped his copy of _Wicked._

“No, it’s fine,” she replied. “You’re my guest, you shouldn’t have to help!”

He sat back down, looking a little deflated, and Emma snickered. “So,” Graham said slowly, “you seem really great with Alexandra.”

“Uh, thanks?” Emma replied.

“Do you spend a lot of time with kids?”

“Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom.” Killian tried hard not to grin in amusement at her obvious exit.

“So, Belle,” Ruby said, “this has been really fun so far. You’re so great for organizing this.”

“Yeah, thank you, Belle,” David added, before craning his neck to see into the kitchen.

“Oh, I can’t take all the credit,” Belle said, blushing. “I’m just so thrilled that Ashley and Mary Margaret approached me. I’m always happy to share my love of books.”

“Well, _I’m_ thrilled they approached you,” Ruby said, grinning. “It’s not every day you meet a hot librarian who’s willing to start a book club for you.”

Belle blushed furiously at the blatant come-on, and Killian sat up a little straighter, ready to intervene. As much as he resented Belle for dragging him into this book club, she was still his best friend. Given her romantic history—escaping an abusive engagement—she didn’t take well to aggressive advances.

But instead of cringing or panicking, Belle smiled a bit and stammered, “Well, it’s not every day I hear that sort of a compliment, so thank you.”

Well, _that_ was interesting. He forced himself to relax a bit. Ruby smiled widely, and Graham rolled his eyes. Then the man smiled—Emma had returned from the bathroom. But Mary Margaret returned from the kitchen at the same time, carrying a tray with several mugs and a plate of brownies. “Oh, let me help you!” David said solicitously, jumping up from the couch again and practically grabbing at the tray.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mary Margaret replied patiently, putting it down on the coffee table.

“Hot cocoa?” Emma asked.

“Yep. There’s cinnamon on yours.” Sure enough, a couple of the mugs of hot cocoa, all topped liberally with whipped cream, had a dusting of cinnamon on them as well. Everyone reached for a mug and a brownie.

Well, not Killian. He grabbed his beer again, from the sideboard where he’d left it.

“So, while we’re waiting for Ashley, who would like to host next week?” Belle asked.

“I would!” David volunteered loudly. “Uh, if no one else minds.”

“Sure,” Belle encouraged. “And how about a book? Killian?”

“I’m sure everyone else has ideas,” he deflected.

“Come on, _one_ suggestion.” She leveled a look at him that made it clear that he would have to give one, and she would continue pushing until he did.

He supposed that this _might_ be a good opportunity to suggest something he’d already read and enjoyed. “How about _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo?”_

“Ugh, no.” All eyes turned to Emma, who was shaking her head. “No offense, but it was one of the worst books I’ve ever read.”

“‘No offense?’” Killian repeated. He was a little surprised at how offended he was. “You’re impugning my taste, you know.”

“Well, sorry, but it’s true.” She shrugged and sipped her cocoa. “I don’t want to read that book again.”

“Perhaps a second reading, complete with group analysis, would change your mind,” he pressed.

“Probably not.”

“Well, if she hated it so much, we should pick something else,” Graham said. David rolled his eyes. “I’ve been meaning to read _In Cold Blood._ Would anyone be interested in that?”

And of course, everyone agreed on that one. So much for trying to participate.

Alexandra began crying again, and Ashley let out a frustrated groan. “Sorry, I think I need to head out.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” Mary Margaret said. “I guess the hour is up anyway. Sorry it took me so long to get dessert ready.”

“It’s delicious,” David said enthusiastically around a mouthful of brownie.

“Do you need any help cleaning up?” Belle asked. Mary Margaret shook her head. “All right, then I suppose Killian and I will head out. Thank you for hosting.”

There were handshakes and hugs (including one from Ruby that left Belle entirely red in the face), and then Killian was finally free.

* * *

David’s flat was much cleaner than Killian had expected. He’d expected dusty surfaces and American football memorabilia, not Febreze and lots of coasters.

Killian sipped one of the beers that David had provided; he’d planned on bringing alcohol to this meeting, as he had the previous two, until David had texted him asking him to bring an appetizer instead. The man was _really_ going all out hosting; he’d even been ready with the oven preheated for Killian’s appetizer.

The two of them had stricken up a friendship lately; David was a nice enough fellow (even if he was painfully obviously head over heels for Mary Margaret). Perhaps Belle hadn’t been wrong about socializing.

Ruby and Graham had just arrived, with the former dropping off a bottle of wine, and the latter heading into the kitchen. Killian, meanwhile, maintained his (comfortable) seat and used his hook to flip through the pages of _In Cold Blood._ He’d actually rather liked the book, gruesome though it was.

“So, Emma’s not here yet?” Graham voice carried from the kitchen well enough.

“No, she’s not.” David’s tone made it clear he was in the middle of something, probably putting the finishing touches on the bacon-wrapped scallops he’d made.

“Ah.”

“Oh, Ruby!” Belle had emerged from the bathroom. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah.” Ruby smiled and opened a beer.

“Weren’t Graham and Ashley coming with you?”

“Graham’s in the kitchen, but Ashley’s not coming tonight.”

“Oh.”

“So is Emma your older or younger sister?” Graham asked.

“Fraternal twins,” David replied. “Shit, this is harder than the video made it look.”

“Well, I’m glad you could still make it at least,” Belle said.

“Yeah?” Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you enjoy the book?”

“Oh, yeah, I did.” Now Ruby’s smile was wider. Killian resisted the urge to chuckle at the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Sorry we’re late!” Emma was stepping through the door, with Mary Margaret at her heels. “I have dessert.”

“And I have chips and dip!” Mary Margaret announced.

At the sound of her voice, David practically ran out of the kitchen. “Oh, great! Let me take that for you! Oh, and your coat!” He handed the bag he’d just taken from Mary Margaret and passed it off to Emma, whose hands were already full. She rolled her eyes as he helped Mary Margaret take her jacket off.

“Uh, thanks.”

A few minutes later, Emma had settled down in the chair next to his, book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. “So, did you like the book?” she asked.

“Aye, I did. And you?”

“I liked it. Didn’t think I would, to be honest.”

He nodded. “Nor did I, given that _I_ enjoyed it, and you seem to think I have poor taste.”

She scoffed. “You sure took _that_ personally. I didn’t say you had bad taste.”

“Calling a book I liked one of the _worst_ books you’ve ever read certainly implies it.”

“Fine, then you _do_ have bad taste.” She got up and moved to another seat on the other side of the room. David came back in, carrying appetizers, and stopped a little short when he saw the expression on his sister’s face. He frowned before putting the appetizers on the coffee table.

“Wow, this all looks great,” Mary Margaret said, reaching for one of the bacon-wrapped scallops.

“Oh, thanks!” he replied brightly, blushing. “Just a little something I threw together.”

“Ruby, would you like one?” Belle asked, reaching for a plate. “I can grab one or two for you.”

“Sure,” Ruby said. “Oooh, and what are these?” She pointed to the other appetizer.

“Spinach ‘brownies,’” David said, gesturing at Killian. “Killian brought them.”

“What? Brownies?”

“It’s spinach and cheese, essentially,” Killian explained. “There’s no chocolate in there, I assure you.”

Everyone except Emma and Graham grabbed one of the brownies. Killian helped himself to some chips and dip and some of the bacon-wrapped scallops. He didn’t normally eat at book club, but he _was_ hungry, and if he didn’t eat anything, he’d be sitting awkwardly watching the rest of them. And with at least one other guest already throwing him dirty looks, he preferred his attention occupied.

The discussion began soon after that, though Killian wondered whether or not anyone was really interested in discussing the book. The question David had posed had been whether or not it was ethical for Capote to have embellished the truth while claiming the story was non-fiction.

Mary Margaret’s opinion seemed to be that she was very impressed with David’s hosting abilities, while David’s opinion involved offering everyone more food and wine. Belle’s opinion was that she found Ruby attractive and was willing to stammer through some flirtatious comments to make it clear, while Ruby’s opinion was that she was pleased to be flirted with. And Graham’s opinion was to reference Emma’s previous opinion, praise it, and then ask her a question about herself; Emma’s opinion was to drink more wine and then announce she had to use the bathroom.

Killian’s opinion was to be irritated that no one seemed to be answering the question.

Had he gone mad? Did _he_ actually _want_ to discuss the book?

“Well, I think that today, it’s easy to look the book up and discover that it’s not purely non-fiction,” he said, interrupting the irrelevant discussions around him. “And even then, the writing style isn’t what I’m used to seeing in pure non-fiction. But I do think that Capote did his readers a disservice by embellishing the truth and adding in fabrications, no matter how minor. It’s one thing to do so and make it clear to the reader; it’s another to do so and _not_ make it clear up front.”

There was nodding and agreement, and finally, the discussion returned to normal.

The hour—which dragged into two, thanks to the irrelevant conversations—finally wrapped up, and Killian was more than ready to head out. However with Belle still chatting with Ruby, he had to stand awkwardly in the living room waiting while everyone else prepared to leave.

“Thanks so much for coming, Mary Margaret!” David said enthusiastically. “Do you want any leftovers?”

“Oh, thanks, but I’m going straight to my hotel tonight. Thanks for hosting, though.”

“Of course! I’d be happy to host _any_ time.”

“Hotel?” Killian asked David once Mary Margaret left.

“Yeah, she has a teaching conference this weekend in Portland.” He paused. “Do you think it means anything that she still came tonight even though it was inconvenient?”

Killian snorted. “Sorry, mate, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“So how is Emma getting home? Didn’t they arrive together?”

“I’m giving her a ride when I’m done cleaning up.”

“Where does she live?”

“Other end of town, near the harbor.”

“I live down by the harbor; I’d be happy to take her home for you.”

“Oh, that would be great!”

“It’s no trouble.”

“What’s no trouble?” Emma had appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Killian’s offered to take you home,” David said.

She raised an eyebrow. “All right. Well, I’m ready to go.”

Killian nodded “I’ll just get Belle and we can be off.”

It hadn’t occurred to Killian that he was doing anything besides doing David a favor. However, since Belle lived only a few minutes away from David’s flat, and a solid fifteen minutes away from the harbor, Killian found that he had volunteered to spend time alone with someone who was not thrilled to be in his company.

He didn’t expect that when he agreed to join this bloody book club that he would get along with everyone. And for the most part, it had been as expected; he got along well enough with David, and things were neutral with Ruby and Mary Margaret. Ashley seemed to be in her own little world, and while he was sure Graham did not particularly like him, the man didn’t seem to dislike him greatly either.

But to have someone _actively_ dislike him was not something he’d expected. And for once, he was uncomfortable with it, because for once (at least, in _his_ opinion), the active dislike was _his_ fault.

“I apologize for my comments to you earlier this evening,” he finally said after the longest ten minutes of silence he’d ever endured. “You tried to start a friendly conversation with me, and my reaction was incredibly rude.”

She didn’t reply right away, and he wondered if she held grudges as effectively as he did. “Apology accepted,” she finally said. “And, uh, I’m sorry, too. I might not have _explicitly_ said you had bad taste, but I guess that’s how it sounded.”

“I’d like to think I have good taste in books,” he said earnestly. “I think you ought to give it a second chance.”

“I really would rather not. Look, I believe that you have good taste, okay? Just … not that one.”

“How about I prove it to you?”

“Prove it to me?”

“Aye, what if … surely there are books I’ve read and loved that you have yet to read. Would you give one of those a try?”

She snorted. “You want me to read another book this month, on top of _Gone Girl?”_

“Never mind, then.” He tried to make sure his tone wasn’t too clipped. He’d just managed to make amends and didn’t want to worsen the situation.

He pulled up to her building. “Good night, then. I suppose I’ll see you next month?”

“Yeah … and, uh, well, what if _you_ read something _I_ recommended?”

He grinned. “I suppose that’s a fair trade. After all, perhaps _you_ should prove to _me_ that _you_ have good taste.”

She laughed. “You’re on.”

* * *

“I still can’t believe you hadn’t read it,” Killian said, pouring her a glass of wine.

“At least my response wasn’t, ‘You mean there’s a book?’” Emma replied. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Graham asked.

“Oh, uh …” Emma paused and glanced at Killian before looking back at Graham. “Just some other books.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “Anyway, Emma, I’m going to grab some more lasagna—can I get you anything?”

She smirked. “Can you balance two plates?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

“Then I’d love some more lasagna, too.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could really balance both plates. But as much as he wanted to see what Emma thought of _The Hobbit,_ he wasn’t keen on inviting Graham into that conversation.

Fortunately, he was able to balance both plates easily enough, and when he returned to the living room, Emma was seated on the other end of the loveseat he’d tossed his book on, with Graham nowhere in sight.

Nearly as soon as the formal discussion began, though, it went straight off the rails.

“So, Amy talks about this idea of the ‘cool girl,’” Ruby said, reading off her question list. “Like, this girl who’s just absolutely flawless for the man she’s with. And she says there isn’t a male counterpart. What do we think of that?”

“I didn’t get that far,” Ashley admitted. “Can someone explain?”

“I thought it was a little true, but I’d like to think of it as a cautionary tale for men,” David said, flashing a smile at Mary Margaret. “Amy felt so much pressure to be an archetype and not just _herself,_ specifically for the sake of the guy she was with. I feel bad for her that she didn’t realize she didn’t have to do that, and I think guys like me should look at that and think about how we relate to the women in our lives.”

Emma gave a low, impressed whistle and turned her head a bit to gauge Mary Margaret’s reaction. But Mary Margaret looked irritated. “Ashley, you didn’t finish the book?”

“Well, no, I mean, you know how it is! Or I guess you don’t. I just didn’t get around to it.”

“That’s okay, hon,” Ruby said. But Mary Margaret seemed a little moody over it. “Anyone else?”

“I guess I agree with David,” Emma said. “I know I’ve felt that way about guys I’ve dated, where I had to be _exactly_ what they wanted, but I don’t think any of them have ever felt that way.”

“Really?” Graham asked, leaning in Emma’s direction. “I hope I’ve never made any of my girlfriends feel that way. I’d want anyone I cared about to feel free to be herself.”

“You know who that reminds me of?” Ashley said, turning towards Ruby. “My step-sister Anastasia. You remember her, right?”

“Oh, _yeah_ , I remember her,” Ruby said laughing. “She’s the one who married that super old, rich guy.”

“Mmhmm. They’re divorcing now, though.”

“Really?” Ruby asked, clearly intrigued. But then Mary Margaret cleared her throat a little disapprovingly. “Um, anyway, so sort of a follow-up question to that, I guess, is what do we think about the part of the book where Amy tries out stuff to see what the ‘real’ Amy likes? Is she really trying to find herself, or just playing another role?”

“I don’t think there _is_ a real Amy,” Killian volunteered. “Or, I suppose, the real Amy is a woman who has this _need_ to create roles for herself. During her time in hiding, she doesn’t seem to enjoy what she’s doing. Instead, she’s making a narrative for herself, much in the same way she made a narrative for the person she was with Nick.”

“I like that,” David said. “I think I agree. Or at least, her true self _is_ the ‘cool girl,’ and she doesn’t know how to do anything else except fit into someone else’s expectations.”

“Ooooh, good point,” Belle said. “And I think that really ties into her parents’ book series.”

“They made a movie out of this, right?” Ashley asked. “Maybe I should have watched it.”

“Yeah, Neil Patrick Harris is in it,” Ruby replied. “And Ben Affleck. There’s full frontal, it’s great.” She glanced at Belle. “Boobs, too. I’m a big fan.”

“Right, anyway,” Mary Margaret said.

“Oh, I saw it,” Graham said. “I thought it was good.”

“Yeah?” Ashley asked.

“Jesus,” Emma muttered.

“I’ll be right back,” Belle said. “I’ve got to use the restroom.”

“No problem,” Ruby said. “Maybe people can grab more food?”

“Can I get you something, Mary Margaret?” David asked. Mary Margaret, meanwhile, didn’t seem to hear him, with her nose buried in her copy of _Gone Girl,_ almost angrily reading a passage.

“So,” Killian said, turning towards Emma a bit. “What did you think of _The Hobbit?”_

“You guys are talking about _The Hobbit?”_ Graham asked. “I didn’t see the last film; was it any good?”

“Uh, not the movie,” Emma answered. “Anyway, yeah, well, it was definitely different than anything I’d read before.”

“Aye, it’s an unusual style—but what did you think?”

“Well … I liked it.” She blushed.

He grinned. He felt triumphant. “I knew you would. I told you, I have _excellent_ taste.”

“What about _you?_ How did you like _The Princess Bride?”_

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, before we move on, I’d really love to know more than _just_ the fact that you liked _my_ book.”

She frowned. “You didn’t like it?”

“I _love_ _The Princess Bride,”_ Graham said enthusiastically. “I didn’t know it was a book.”

“Back!” Belle said, dropping back into her seat. Ruby grinned. “Where were we?”

The discussion resumed and, with a few stops and starts, continued on for the full hour. Ashley was out the door in a flash, likely embarrassed that she hadn’t finished the book, while once again, Killian was unable to leave thanks to Belle, who was still talking with Ruby.

“We’ve gotta head out,” Mary Margaret said, interrupting Belle and Ruby’s conversation. “Thanks for hosting!”

“Of course! See you in a month!”

“Before I’m dragged out the door,” Emma said, “I need to know what you thought about _The Princess Bride.”_

Killian half-expected Graham to appear out of nowhere before he remembered that the man had already left. “Well,” he deflected, “to be fair, _you_ didn’t tell me what your favorite part of _The Hobbit_ was.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you that I liked it, okay? I liked the book you recommended. Now, come on.”

He took a deep breath. He wanted to lie, to insist that he had better taste, and that _she_ had been wrong about _The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo._ But judging by her expression, he knew that she would sense the deception.

He sighed. “I loved it.”

She let out a triumphant whoop. “I knew it! I knew you’d love it.”

“Now, I still loved _The Hobbit_ more,” he insisted, but she ignored him.

“I bet you thought that if you hated it, you could make it a _thing_ about how you had better taste,” she said.

How had she known? “Fine, maybe, but I was honest, aye? I liked it.”

“Good.”

“Ready to go?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Yeah.” Emma turned to him. “Well, see you next month, I guess.”

“I suppose. Good night, then.”

His phone beeped at him as Belle drove him home.

_David gave me your number. Hope that’s okay. It’s Emma._

He raised an eyebrow. Another text came in. _Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?_

* * *

“So, what do we make of the meaning of the title?” Graham asked as patiently as he could.

Killian had always found the man a bit annoying before, but tonight, he felt nothing but sympathy. They were down to six; David was away at a veterinary conference, and Ruby had to cover a shift at her grandmother’s diner. And most of the remaining members of the club were not pulling their weight.

He wasn’t surprised that Belle, who was normally excited to talk about anything literary, was a bit subdued. Her growing attraction to Ruby over the past several months had been obvious to him, although Belle herself seemed surprised at her own disappointment. He wanted to broach the subject in the car ride home, but since they wouldn’t be alone, he wouldn’t get the chance.

Mary Margaret’s similar behavior, though, _was_ a surprise to him. As he’d grown closer to David, the man had opened up about his feelings for the teacher. He’d even admitted that he’d begged Emma to join the book club so he’d have a reason to as well, to spend more time with Mary Margaret. And he’d overanalyzed every interaction with her, to the point that Killian had felt obligated to force him to recognize that at most, Mary Margaret seemed to think he was just her friend’s nice brother.

Clearly, though, Killian had been in the wrong; Mary Margaret was _obviously_ disappointed that David was absent. She typically participated eagerly and constantly pushed for discussions to stay on track, but tonight, she was distracted and much quieter than she’d ever been.

Ashley, meanwhile, had not even read the book, claiming that she just hadn’t had time. And so she sat on the couch, half-curled up, looking embarrassed and bored.

Meanwhile, he’d read the book, but he’d done so quickly so that he could read _Pride and Prejudice._ And so his first thoughts when Graham posed the question was to answer something along the lines of the title describing Darcy and Lizzie, respectively, but that he thought the title was rather bland and uninspiring and that he assumed Jane Austen felt similarly.

Fortunately, Emma answered first, reminding him of _which_ book he was supposed to be thinking about. “I think it’s talking about Boo Radley. He’s weirdly innocent, and exposing him to the outside world by drawing a ton of attention to him would be a huge burden. Like, if he were a teenager in modern times, he might say, ‘If I got that much attention, I’d _die.’_ Something like that.” She blushed. “I’m not articulating myself very well.”

“That’s okay,” Graham said, smiling. “I suppose you mean that the pressure of that sort of publicity and fame would end his days as a recluse and he wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I interpreted the title differently,” Killian volunteered.

“Yeah?”

“Aye, I thought it referred to Tom Robinson.”

Emma’s mouth became an “O.” “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, it’s similarly … an awkward fit, I suppose. Tom is innocent, and his conviction and subsequent death are a stain on the community, from the perspective of the protagonists and the reader.”

“So there are _two_ mockingbirds,” Graham mused.

“Yeah, I agree,” Belle said, a little absently, shaking her head almost as though she’d just woken up.

After a few more agonizingly long minutes, Graham called for a break. Killian took the opportunity to head into the kitchen to grab himself another burger. That was another reason he’d found himself begrudgingly admitting that Graham wasn’t so annoying after all; the man could grill a _great_ burger.

As he was dressing it with all manner of toppings, he overheard a conversation.

“Hey, Ashley, can we talk for a second?” It was Emma.

“Sure.”

“I don’t want to make you feel like you’re unwelcome or anything but …”

“I know, I know,” Ashley said, groaning. “I swear, I’ll read the book for next time.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just … here’s the thing. When you’ve got a kid at home, shit happens. You’re not obligated to stick this out, and if you need a night off every week to get away from it all, you _should_ be doing something you enjoy.”

There was a pause. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Emma replied firmly. “I like book club, but if Henry weren’t ten, I don’t think I’d be able to get _any_ reading done.” She laughed. “And if Alexandra is _half_ as much of a pain in the ass as Henry was when he was her age, then I’m just impressed you managed to stick it out this long.”

Suddenly, Belle was next to him. “You okay?” Bloody hell, where had she come from?

“Yes, I’m fine.” He gestured at the ketchup he was holding. “Simply getting myself some more dinner.”

“I can see that,” she mused. “You just usually don’t put _that_ much ketchup on anything.”

Bloody hell _again._

The night ended early, with only Emma, Graham, and himself participating, and soon enough, he was in the car, driving Belle and Emma home.

“So,” he said slowly, once he’d dropped off Belle.

“I have a kid,” she said.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.”

She laughed. “Yeah _right._ I know you heard me talking to Ashley.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t overhear you, just that you couldn’t possibly have known I’d bring that up now.”

“Well, was I right?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Aye.”

“Henry’s ten. His dad and I were high school sweethearts. Classic teen girl in trouble. We split years ago, and he gets Henry every other weekend. And on Thursdays when I’ve got book club.”

“Does your son enjoy reading as much as you do?”

“More. And he loves writing, too. Although now he’s at the age where he’s embarrassed to let me read what he’s writing. It’s really cute.”

They were quiet for a few moments. “My girlfriend had a ten-year-old son,” he said. His heart felt like it had leapt into his throat.

He could hear the frown in her voice, even as he kept his eyes on the road. “Had?”

“She died.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you. He was a good kid. I didn’t get to know him very well.”

“I can understand that. I don’t let guys meet my kid, to be honest. Not that there are really any _guys_ , I mean.”

“No, that’s a sensible attitude.”

He pulled up in front of her flat. “So I’ll talk to you later?” she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Of course.”

“Oh! Wait, what are we going to read for next time?”

He snorted in amusement, her odd question breaking the tension. “Emma, love, _you_ picked the book. How could you not remember?”

She groaned. “Not for book club. What are _we_ going to read?”

He perked up. “Another trade?”

“Well, yeah, we’ve got to figure out who has better taste,” she said, grinning. “We’re tied. You liked _The Princess Bride_ and _Pride and Prejudice_ , which means _I_ have good taste, and I liked _The Hobbit_ and _The Great Gatsby_ , which means _you_ have good taste. Come on, what’s next?”

“I shall have to think about it and text you,” he admitted. “Because I _know_ that I’ll crush you this time.”

She finally opened the car door and stepped out. Before she shut it behind her, though, she leaned forward and flashed him a wicked smile. “Words of a desperate man.”

She had _no_ idea.

* * *

Killian wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous sitting in Emma’s flat.

They were certainly friends now, texting each other multiple times a week. He didn’t even need to ask how she’d felt about _Watchmen_ tonight, given that she’d texted him constantly with her reactions as she read it. And likewise with _Good Omens;_ he’d updated her as he’d read, relaying his favorite lines and moments.

So why was it this strange being inside her living space?

“Hey, Killian?” Emma called out from the kitchen. He practically leapt up and followed her voice.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just need some help carrying out the appetizers.”

“Of course, which ones are ready to go?”

“These ones.” She pointed at the plates. “There’s a tray you can use that’s in the narrow cabinet next to the oven.”

“Thank you.” He fished it out and set it atop the small bit of counter space that was free, before loading up the platters of appetizers, including the spinach brownies he’d made at Emma’s request. “Are you all right, love?”

She sighed. “Yeah, just nervous.”

“Why?”

“I guess I don’t ever host stuff. I had to go out and buy half of the stuff I’m using tonight.”

“Surely you didn’t need to go through all that trouble.”

“Why, did you have cookie sheets I could borrow?”

He chuckled. “No, I suppose not. After all, I have to keep purchasing foil pans every time I make these bloody brownies.”

She laughed, too. “We’re quite the pair, then.” His heart sped up a bit at the phrase, but he tried not to read too much into it. After all, Emma had been one of the most standoffish, aloof members of the book club from the start, second only to him. The chances that she meant anything by it were slim to none.

He dutifully carried the appetizers out to the living room, where he arranged the platters in the best manner he could. “Anything else?” he asked, once he’d returned to the kitchen.

“I _think_ that’s it for now,” she said, pulling yet another appetizer out of the oven.

“Bloody hell, love, how much food did you think we’d need tonight?”

She blushed. “Well, I mean … Mary Margaret and Belle are bringing desserts, Ruby and Graham are bringing booze, and David’s bringing some non-alcoholic stuff. So that left just us with appetizers and I didn’t want you to have to make a ton of them when everyone else was just bringing one thing.”

“Aye, but …” Her face fell and he immediately switched tactics. “I suppose I wouldn’t argue with leftovers. I do like spring rolls.” He gestured at the tray she’d just removed from the oven.

“Good.”

“Now, what else I can I do to help?”

By the time Mary Margaret arrived, he’d helped her finish setting up the living room and was halfway through washing dishes while she fretted over seating. Even her best friend’s compliments weren’t enough to quell her nerves; when he peeked outside of the kitchen, he saw her shifting back and forth with her arms crossed.

Soon enough, though, the rest of the book club had arrived. He was pleased to find that David’s contribution of non-alcoholic beverages was his favorite flavor of seltzer, and as soon as he was finished making sure Emma didn’t need any help, he helped himself to some and settled down on the couch.

“Where’s Ashley?” David asked.

“Oh, she quit,” Mary Margaret answered, sitting down on the loveseat next to him. “She was just so stressed trying to find time to read the books, and since Sean’s been working nights, she can’t always find a sitter.”

“That makes sense.” David seemed surprised when Mary Margaret handed him a plate. “Oh, thanks.”

“Of course.” She smiled at him. Killian hid his own smile behind his can of seltzer; it was nice to see David’s feelings reciprocated.

To Killian’s dismay, though, the discussion did not go smoothly. While he had initially been pleased to see David and Mary Margaret flirting, said flirting continued throughout the evening; neither one of them seemed to care much about participating in the discussion.

Belle, whom Killian thought he could count on, was in a similar situation with Ruby, although he’d been hoping that the fact that they were officially dating would mean that they could focus on something besides each other for an hour. Graham, meanwhile, was trying his best, but hadn’t enjoyed the book enough.

“What do you think this book says about communication?” Emma asked.

“I think it’s really interesting how Oskar’s grandfather’s methods of communication are so restricted by his trauma,” Killian said. “And how he still couldn’t communicate with his own son.”

“I didn’t like all the pages with writing over writing,” Graham complained. “I get the point, but it was hard to read.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Ruby said. “Maybe we can do something easier next time?”

“But … you weren’t _supposed_ to have an easy time reading it,” Emma said, pleadingly, meeting Killian’s gaze almost desperately.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” he said. Everyone agreed.

“Are you all right?” he asked once he and Emma were alone in the kitchen.

“Ugh, I don’t even know,” she said. “Is it me? Am I hosting badly?”

“Not at all, love,” he said emphatically. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into everyone. You’re a _brilliant_ host. I swear, it’s not you.” Her grumble of a reply made it clear she wasn’t so sure.

He approached Belle, who was relaxing on the couch while Ruby got her another drink. “Could you perhaps help Emma out?” he asked. “She’s trying hard to keep the discussion going.”

Belle sighed. “I’ll try harder. But to be honest, maybe we need to call it a day on book club.”

“I agree,” said Graham, who was sitting on the other end of the couch. “I barely had time to read the book this month, and obviously I didn’t even really understand it.”

He sighed. “At _least_ try to keep it together for Emma’s sake. She put a lot of effort into hosting, and _Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close_ is one of her favorite books.” Belle nodded, but by the time they’d reconvened to continue the discussion, she was once again too distracted by her new girlfriend.

The evening ended early, with the guests dispersing quickly (and, to Emma’s relief, with a lot of leftover appetizers). Killian stuck around to help clean up. “After all,” he said, smiling, “we wouldn’t want Henry to come home at the end of the weekend to find you living in a pigsty.”

She chuckled before letting out a sigh. “This was a disaster.”

“No, you were _great,”_ he said, putting his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “You _were._ Don’t think that Belle and your brother won’t be getting an earful from me about their behavior.”

“Thanks.”

Finally, the flat was tidied up, and Killian had his own container of leftovers ready to take home. “So I’ll talk to you later,” he said.

“Wait, what about a book for next time?”

“Another?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, smiling freely for the first time since he’d shown up. “We still haven’t settled the question of who has better taste.”

“True. Perhaps you might trust me enough to give _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ another go? You’ve liked everything else I’ve suggested.”

Her smile disappeared. “Killian …”

“Look, I will read _anything_ you ask.” He took her hand in his. “Please, just give it another try?”

She stared at him for a while before nodding. “All right, I’ll read it again. But only if you do, too.”

“Wait, _that’s_ what you’d want me to read in return? Isn’t there something else you’d rather subject me to?”

“Nope. I’ll give it another try, but you have to, too. Deal?”

Well, at least she was giving it another go. “Deal.”

* * *

“Where is everyone?” Emma asked as she made her way into his kitchen to drop off the seltzer she’d brought.

“Graham quit,” Killian said, pulling the spinach brownies out of the oven and sliding in the buffalo chicken bites. “Try not to look _too_ relieved.”

“Sorry,” she said, laughing a little. “You know I didn’t dislike him, right? He just came on _way_ too strong.”

“I know.”

“Well, what about Belle and Ruby?”

“Ruby can’t make it tonight, but Belle should be here soon. What about your brother and best friend?”

“They should be here soon, too.”

“Excellent.” But then his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Killian, I’m so sorry!” It was Belle. “Ruby’s sick tonight.”

“I know, she emailed me.”

“Right, but she’s _really_ sick. I’m going to bring her some soup and take care of her. I’m so sorry.”

“But then that’s just four of us,” he complained.

“I know, I’m sorry! I’ve got to go!”

“All right, bye.” He hung up and stared at his phone as though it had insulted him. “Bloody hell, we’re down to four.”

“Two,” Emma said bitterly. Without explaining, she made a call. “Hey, yeah, I got your text. What do you _mean_ you’re not coming tonight? No, it’s just me and Killian because Belle and Ruby aren’t coming either. No, you _didn’t_ have tonight free—neither of you did!” She let out a frustrated huff. “You know, I shouldn’t have given _either_ of you my blessing. You both suck.” And then she hung up.

“What on earth was that?”

“My best friend and _your_ best friend decided that tonight was date night,” she said angrily.

“You mean your best friend and your brother.”

“Not after this, he’s not. I’m disowning him.”

He frowned. “So, I suppose we should cancel,” he said sadly. “Unless you want to sit for the next hour and talk about _One Hundred Years of Solitude_ together.”

She looked almost alarmed. “I mean, I did come all the way here.”

“Aye, true. But you live a short distance away. Not that—I’d be happy if you stayed. It’s not as though I had any plans tonight besides book club.”

“And I don’t think you’re going to eat all of those appetizers yourself,” she said, smiling a little. “I’ll stay. I mean, you cleaned and everything.”

He laughed. “That I did.”

He carried out the appetizers so they could eat on the couch. “Do you have any beer?”

He shook his head. “Your brother—I’m sorry, _my best friend_ was supposed to bring some. My new therapist suggested that I wouldn’t drink as much if I didn’t keep any in the house, and so far, it’s worked pretty well.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.” She grabbed a couple cans of seltzer and put them on coasters. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s all right. It’s been a year.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “After the car accident, I was convinced that my life was over. I’d lost my hand, and the love of my life. I’d already lost almost all of my friends before that, since they didn’t approve of the relationship—she was married. Belle’s the only one who stuck by me.”

“Is that why you joined book club?” He nodded. “I did it mostly for David, so he could spend time with Mary Margaret.”

“Mostly?”

“Yeah, uh … Mary Margaret told me there would be a couple of single guys in the group, and she made the mistake of saying so in front of Henry. Neal—my ex—had just gotten engaged, so Henry had it in his head that I needed to meet someone.”

“Ah.” His heart beat a little rapidly at that explanation.

“So anyway,” she said, a little too brightly.

“Aye, anyway … how about that book?”

“Which one?” she asked, laughing a little. _“One Hundred Years of Solitude?”_

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo._ How was it the second time around?”

She fidgeted. “Why don’t we talk about the other book?”

“Emma.”

“Seriously.”

_“Emma.”_

“Killian, please,” she said, and she covered her face with her hands.

“Emma,” he repeated again, and he reached out and caressed one of her arms. “Emma, I won’t be upset, no matter what you say.”

She dropped her hands and stared at him sadly. “Killian, I’m so sorry. I hated it. Even more than I did last time. But I _swear_ , I _do_ think you have good taste. And I—look, I really like you so much as a person, and I don’t think less of you for liking it, and _god,_ I shouldn’t have agreed to reread it, I’m sorry—”

“Emma, stop.” She did. He took a deep breath, ready for the moment of truth. “Emma, I read it again, too. And I couldn’t _stand_ it.”

Her jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I am certainly not. The mystery was half-baked, the journalism politics would probably only be interesting to Swedish journalists, and for a book that’s supposedly about the horrors of violence against women, there was a lot of _gratuitous_ violence against women. And _besides,_ am I supposed to believe that every female character is going to fall head over heels for the author self-insert?”

“Oh my _god,_ you _did_ hate it!”

He nodded vigorously. “I did. And not only am I happily willing to concede that you, love, have the better taste in books, but I am also willing to do whatever you ask of me to make up for the fact that I coerced you into reading this piece of garbage a second time.”

She was giggling hard now. “Oh _man,_ I’m so sorry I made _you_ reread it.”

“No, I deserved it, and I’m grateful that you freed me of the delusion that this book was any good.”

“God, stop it, Killian, I’m dying.” She was wiping tears from her eyes, and it was too easy to join her in laughter.

“So,” she said, when she’d finally calmed down. “I guess book club is kind of done, isn’t it? I mean, we’re down to six anyway, and to be honest, those other four have been useless lately.”

“Aye, love, it’s just been the two of us carrying the discussions. And we seem to have our own book club, I suppose.”

“True,” she mused. She suddenly became intensely interested in her nails. “Yeah, I like that, though. I’d keep doing that.”

“I would, too,” he said earnestly, and she looked up at him and smiled.

He thought about what else his therapist had suggested, and though he was loath to risk Emma’s friendship … well, the other suggestions had worked thus far. “Emma, actually … perhaps instead of meeting once a month to talk about books, we could … go to dinner? I mean, we could still talk about books, if you wanted, I just—”

“Are you asking me out?” she asked, sounding a little stunned.

He wanted to deny it. After all, earlier, she’d mentioned how Graham had come on too strong. But she deserved to know that he’d been serious; it would be bad form if he were to lie and try to cover for his true intentions and feelings. “Aye. I am. It’s all right if you’re not interested. I’m happy to continue on as friends. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Um, yeah, about that,” she said, and before he could ask for clarification, she was leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

It was a moment he’d been fantasizing about for months now; perhaps this kiss was just another dream. He tentatively opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, and to his delight, she followed suit. She tasted like seltzer, which served as a potent reminder that this was, in fact, real.

He pulled away once the kiss reached what felt like a stopping point. “So, is that a yes?”

She laughed. “Yeah, it is.”

“Brilliant.” And he leaned back in for more.

* * *

Emma’s phone was ringing. “Are you going to answer it, love?”

“I’m busy,” she complained.

“Answer it.”

“Ugh, _fine._ Hello? I’m _sure_ you’re sorry for skipping out.” She sat up a bit more, adjusting the pillow against the headboard so she could sit more comfortably. “Yeah, we’re having fun without you guys.” She winced, and Killian understood why, given that even _he_ could hear Mary Margaret’s high pitched squeal. “Yes, I _am_ still here, and _don’t_ tell David! Ugh, look, I will call you tomorrow when you’ve calmed down. Bye.” She hung up in disgust. “Well, expect my brother to give you a speech about how he’ll kill you if you hurt me.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, setting down his Kindle and squeezing her hand. “Now, shall we get back to reading?”

She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Yeah, that’s a great idea.”

It was the last official meeting of the Storybrooke Book Club, and there was nowhere Killian Jones would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story, and I'd love to know what you think!
> 
> (PS The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is trash, fight me.)


End file.
